


Brokenheart Road

by diablo77



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Road Trip!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6464758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diablo77/pseuds/diablo77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing his first love, Castiel is grieving. Dean takes him on a road trip to help him heal.</p><p> </p><p>This is my first (and probably only) Destiel fic. I wanted to do something for my friend who made me a really beautiful Megstiel fan video and artwork but my only talent is writing, so this was the best I could do. I hope she doesn't mind that I tried to find a way to sail her ship without completely sinking my own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brokenheart Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeantheUnicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeantheUnicorn/gifts).



He had thought it was one of his skin mags at first. Not that he wasn’t surprised to find the angel staring so intently at the pages, but hey, a guy’s gotta unwind sometime, right? Maybe even a guy who’s not so much a guy as an ageless celestial being. “Dude, sorry,” he said, covering his eyes and backing out of the room.

Castiel looked confused. He looked down at the magazine, then stared back at Dean. A look of slow realization crossed his face. “It wasn’t – I wasn’t – ” he stammered, putting it down. The cover fell open and Dean could see it wasn’t a girlie mag at all, but some gossip rag, the kind he always ignored in checkout lines.

He crossed the room and picked it up. “This was one of Meg’s, wasn’t it?” Cas nodded. Dean sighed as he set the magazine back down. “You miss her?” Another nod. “You really loved her, huh.” It wasn’t a question this time.

“I suppose I did.” Cas turned toward the window, but not before Dean saw a single fat tear roll down his cheek.

“Look…” Dean raked a hand backwards through his hair, searching for the words. “I know what’s it’s like to love someone. I know what it’s like to lose someone, too. Hell, a lot of someones.”

“How do you get through it?”

“You get out there, you keep moving, you find something to take your mind off it till it starts to hurt less. That’s all you can do.” He thought about it for a moment, then made a decision. “Say, why don’t we just go drive for awhile? Get out of here, away from everything that brings back memories.”

Cas nodded. “All right.”

Seated inside Dean’s Impala, he turned to Cas and asked, “So where to? Anywhere in particular?”

Cas seemed to think about it a moment, staring out the passenger window. “No,” he said. “I’d just like to see the road, the way you do. What it’s like to move from one place to the next this way.”

Dean nodded and started the ignition. They drove for hours, down two-lane country roads and desolate stretches of highway, until the sky bruised dark and Dean’s hands got heavy on the wheel. “We’re coming up on a little town, looks like,” he said. “How about we stop for the night?”

Cas didn’t need to stop, and Dean knew it. But he simply said, “Sure, Dean.”

They pulled into a roadside motel just outside of what seemed to be a small town. Their motel was surrounded by woods that blocked their view of anything but a small strip of road, though. Cas seemed surprised when Dean asked for a room with two beds.

“I don’t sleep, Dean,” he reminded him.

“I know. But you’re not gonna sit up all night either. It creeps me out. Just lay there and rest a little. It might do you some good.”

Cas sighed. “All right.”

Dean took off his leather jacket and hung it inside the door; Cas hung his trench coat next to it. They both kicked their shoes off but left everything else on, lying down on top of the ugly bedspreads. Cas had watched Dean and Sam sleep this way in enough motels over the years to know that it was in their blood by now; even tonight, when there were no monsters to fight, no reason to be on alert, Dean didn’t seem to know any other way. In his own way, Cas understood that.

Cas crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ceiling. “Dean?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever get tired of this?”

“Tired of what?”

“Running. Whether you’re running after something, or away from something, it always seems as though your impulse is to run.”

Dean groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. “Get some sleep, Cas.”

“I don’t –” Cas began, but from Dean’s bed next to his, all he could hear were snores.

When Dean woke several hours later, he groaned and stretched his arms above his head, kicking off covers that had somehow tangled around him despite his having fallen asleep on top of them. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Is time really relevant right now? It isn’t as though we have some sort of schedule.”  
            “It is if we slept past checkout time.”

“No, I would have noticed that.”

Dean tumbled out of bed and brushed his teeth in the little sink next to the bed. “Let’s roll, then,” he said.

They dropped the key at the front window and piled back into the car. As they drove down the road in daylight, winding around a bend, the trees thinned just enough to see a lake they hadn’t noticed the night before. Glancing over at Cas, Dean pulled over down a narrow dirt road, rolling up to the water’s edge.

“Funny,” he said, killing the ignition. “We didn’t even know this was here.”

They climbed out of the car and sat on the hood. Dean pulled two beers from the cooler in the back and cracked one, handing the other to Cas. “I don’t believe this will have much effect on me,” he mused, staring down into the bottle’s open neck.

“Aw, just shut up and drink it, Cas.”

They sat there for a long time, looking out on the water they had spent a whole night beside without knowing it. “We’ve lost everybody we ever loved,” Dean finally said, tossing back a last swallow. “Everyone except…” he trailed off and shook his head.

Cas looked down at where his hand rested on the perfectly polished paint of the hood. Slowly, he moved his own until the sides of their hands touched. Dean looked down too, raised an eyebrow slightly, but said nothing. Cas moved his hand again until it covered Dean’s. “I know,” Cas said. And they leaned together, lips brushing in a way that felt foreign and familiar at the same time, as the rippling water lapped against the shoreline and the thick ring of trees made the whole world outside of them disappear for a moment.


End file.
